Who's a Pretty Kitty (You Are)
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: The war is raging, and Vernon Dursley thinks he might go insane while in hiding. That all changes when a stray kitten interrupts his alone time.


_For Quidditch League_

 _Falmouth Falcons, Captain_

 _Prompt: Write about someone known to be stoic/cold/aloof using baby-talk with a pet._

 _Word Count: 1256_

* * *

"Good morning, Vernon!" Diggle is far too bright and cheerful when he greets Vernon. "Look! I'm making eggs without magic!"

Vernon sniffs and makes a disgusted face. At least that explains why the house smells like it's on the verge of combustion. He offers the freak a quick grunt of acknowledgement—it's more than he deserves, but Vernon learned quickly that ignoring the bubbly, excitable man would only cause Diggle to become louder and closer until greeted—before slipping out the front door.

His pudgy fingers rummage through his jacket pocket as he ventures out, brown and yellow leaves crunching beneath his heavy feet. He has to be careful. If he goes too far outside the realm of their protection, Lord What's-He-Called's little army of evil delinquents can snatch him up. However, if he stays too close to the house, Petunia will see the smoke, and she doesn't need anything else to worry about.

Thankfully, there's an abandoned shed on the property that has served him well. It's rickety, and the sagging roof looks like it might collapse on him at any moment, but it works. He slips inside, shutting the battered door behind him and plucking a cigarette and lighter from his pocket at last. He tucks the filter between his lips and lights it, inhaling the robust smoke and exhaling a cloud of white-grey.

" _Mew_."

Vernon looks up at the small squeak of a sound. A scrawny, white kitten with grey stripes steps out of the shadows, its tail twitching as it sniffs the air. Its yellow-green eyes rest upon Vernon, and it meows again, almost expectantly.

"Shoo!" Vernon snaps, kicking his foot outward, hoping the sudden movement will be enough to scare the cat away.

Instead, much to Vernon's annoyance, it moves closer. " _Mew_."

Vernon takes a step back, but the kitten follows suit. He scowls, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Aren't wild cats supposed to be skittish? He hasn't encountered many before, but he's certain he's heard people talk about it. This cat, however, is determined to get closer.

"Shoo!" he says again, stomping his foot.

The kitten recoils with a hiss. It drops to its stomach, watching Vernon warily.

Vernon turns away from it, returning his attention to his cigarette. "Can't even have a ruddy smoke in peace," he grumbles, puffing away and trying to enjoy the last of it.

He feels a soft thud against his leg and turns. The scrawny fleabag circles him, steadily meowing. Ever so often, it pauses to nudge his leg with the top of its head.

With a growl, Vernon reaches down and picks it up. The thing is light as air, and he can feel its bones poking out beneath its skin. For a moment, he hesitates, marveling at how fragile the kitten is. When he finally tosses it aside, it's with a surprising gentleness. "Scram," he says, and the edge and irritation no longer saturates his voice. He drops his cigarette and stomps it out quickly. "It's nothing against you. I just… I have to share a home with two _freaks,_ and I don't know if I can…"

Vernon trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. A manic laugh bubbles from his throat. "Talking to a damn cat," he says, his free hand pushing through his thinning, greying hair. "I have finally lost my mind."

The kitten remains undeterred. It moves closer, its tail twitching excitedly. With a soft _mew_ , it sits down, peering up at him again. Vernon tries to resist; he has never cared for animals, so why should he start now?

But he can't. The kitten looks so pitiful, and his heart melts. With a defeated sigh, he picks that cat and holds it easily in one hand. "You're not so bad, are you?" he asks, his voice softer and shriller than usual, like an adult babbling at a newborn. "No, you're not. Bet you could use some food, huh?"

He scratches the kitten gently behind the ears, eliciting a soft purr. "Do you like that, sweet baby?" he asks, walking across the shed and out the door. "Yeah. Him likes that, huh?"

In all his years, Vernon could never understand how a fully grown adult could talk to an _animal_ in such a ridiculous manner, but it makes perfect sense now. The kitten is so small, so frail, that it reminds him of holding a newborn child. Something about the little grey and white furball stirs a strange gentleness in him that he hasn't felt since he'd held Dudley for the first time.

Diggle is still in the kitchen when Vernon returns. His bright grey eyes seem to light up when he notices the kitten nestled in the crook of Vernon's arm. "I didn't know you owned a cat, Vernon!" he says excitedly, clapping his hands before rushing over. "May I?"

Vernon hesitates. He doesn't know why he's already grown so attached to the kitten, but it feels ridiculously difficult to hand him over now. "Careful with him," he cautions, grudgingly allowing the shorter man to hold him. "He's shy."

Diggle lifts the kitten, examining him with a broad smile. "Well, for starters, _he_ is, in fact, a _she_ ," he informs Vernon. "Such a sweet girl."

Vernon holds his arms out impatiently until Diggle returns the kitten to him. "A girl, huh?" Vernon muses, rubbing her tiny belly. She kicks out, her thin claws scraping against his arm and leaving shallow scrapes. "Such a pretty girl, aren't you?"

Diggle chuckles before returning his attention the stove. Vernon is so preoccupied with the kitten in his arms that he doesn't even get flustered when the other man waves his wand to transfer breakfast from the stove to the table. "You know, Vernon, I think this is the happiest I've seen you since we've gone into hiding. And here I thought you were a bit on the heartless side."

Once, that might have annoyed him or lead to an argument. Now, however, the kitten keeps him calm, and the remark barely even registers with him. "Who's a pretty kitty?" he asks, smiling and tapping his finger lightly against her little pink nose. "You are, aren't you? My sweet little Serenity."

He rests Serenity on his shoulder and makes his way to the refrigerator. "Watch it!" he laughs as the kitten nips his ear. "Silly kitty, no." He looks up, and Serenity taps her paws repeatedly against his chubby cheek. "Diggle, we're out of milk. Go fetch some, will you?"

"After breakfast."

Serenity meows, and Vernon realizes they don't have any cat food either. He reaches up and scratches her head before sitting down. "Don't worry, my pretty kitty," he assures her sweetly. "Daddy will make sure her wittle tum-tum gets nice and full."

He sits at the table, his newfound friend still perched happily upon his shoulder. Vernon plucks a sausage from a plate in the center of the table and holds it up to Serenity. With a growl deep in her throat, she bites into it, her teeth grazing his finger in the process. "Hungry baby, aren't you?"

His attention is so focused on Serenity that he barely even hears Petunia shriek. "What is _that_?" she demands.

"A kitten," Vernon answer simply.

"Shoo! Get it away from the table! Have you lost your mind Vernon?"

His wife continues to nag, but he doesn't care. This is the happiest he's felt since Harry's lot ruined his life and turned his world upside down, and he won't let anything ruin it.


End file.
